


a bad town for such a pretty face

by twistedingenue



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, F/M, Keeping warm, Smut, because I can't help it, mostly smut with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedingenue/pseuds/twistedingenue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm just letting you know now that I hate you, and I hope you die." Darcy grumbles, wrapped up in the one small, thin cotton blanket in what Clint termed a "safehouse" and Darcy called a "flophouse". Really, Barton, she knows gutterpunks with nicer digs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a bad town for such a pretty face

**Author's Note:**

> For Trope Bingo Square Huddle for Warmth, and a prompt of Clint/Darcy, Blankets.
> 
> Title from Gin Wigmore's Kill of the Night

"I'm just letting you know now that I hate you, and I hope you die." Darcy grumbles, wrapped up in the one small, thin cotton blanket in what Clint termed a "safehouse" and Darcy called a "flophouse". Really, Barton, she knows gutterpunks with nicer digs. 

"It is not my fault." Clint says, as he strips off the wet clothes, because they had to run out of the stupid party that she was bait for, in the fucking downpour to this god damn forsaken safehouse, and she's already pretty much just in her underwear. That little dress she was wearing didn't stand a chance. "I can't control the weather, I don't control mob bosses, and I really didn't pick out this place. It's just the only one I know of in this city."

"The radiator doesn't work." Darcy pouts. It does work, a little. Darcy's dress is laid over it, and maybe it'll even be just a bit damp by morning.

"A fact that I am all too aware of, because you have made yourself a burrito with the only blanket." She is, she is a very disgruntled and not very warm burrito. Burrito's don't nearly get shot while wearing Pepper's best shoes and breaks the heels. Darcy's pretty sure that Pepper can get them fixed. Probably. Or Tony could replace then.

And then invoice SHIELD. 

Darcy sighs and looks at Clint, who is kind of delightfully shivering in just his boxers, and holds out an end of the blanket. It's thin and ragged, but it's really all they've got in this shithole, other than a light, the cheap mattress they are sitting on (because she does not even want to touch the floor), a toliet and the mostly broken radiator. She's really not sure which is more likely, that this is an actual SHIELD safehouse, or that Clint has a really bad memory and thinks this is a SHIELD safehouse.

"Thanks." He says, wrapping the end around his shoulders and scoots up so that he's pressing against her. For warmth. Sure. His thighs are totally sapping up the little bit of heat that her body has been trying to make since she got through the door ten minutes ago and shed her clothes. But those thighs are lovely and strong next to hers.

This crush is ridiculous. It has been for months. She'd volunteered for this before she knew that Barton would be assigned to the case. It was supposed to be simple. Be hot and the Mafioso's type, befriend and lead him out onto the terrance and book it before whoever the sniper could shoot. She should have figured this would be the sort of case that Clint would be perfect for, and hey, spending a little bit of time with the guy she has a stupid fucking crush on? Not a hardship.

Well, right until after he shot the dude and hell broke out at the party because of a split second after the man went down, his guard had grabbed Darcy and blamed her. Okay, so the guard was right but that was still a few agonizing minutes before Clint had burst through the window for a rescue, and they ran through the streets with bad guys on their tail.

Her hearts still pounding a bit for that. Clint notices, and is awkward. He clearly doesn't know what to do when faced with a half naked woman who is not just shaking from the cold.

"It's uh, sometimes tough to wind down after that." Clint is not smooth at all. It's oddly comforting. "You, uh, mind?" He lifts his arm up and around her shoulders holding her a little steady, "I know you don't do this often, paper pusher, but you did good."

"So did you," she says quietly, "saved my butt, I guess I don't hope you die after all." all that skin feels incredible and well, there's no time like the present, she leans into him just a bit. Not much, enough that if it made him uncomfortable, she could just laugh it off.

But Darcy doesn't have to laugh it off, Clint rearranges so that she can rest her head against his shoulder. But in doing so, it brings the cold, the absolutely freezing air of the room into the blanket. Darcy flinches.

"Fuck this," Clint says and pulls her down, wrapping himself around her, the blanket over both of them, and twines their legs together. It's almost entirely too much and not enough at all. Darcy's sure the only reason his voice is soft and tight is because his mouth ends up next to her ears, "gotta get you warmed up, girlie. Can't give you back to the sciences with like, parts missing."

"I'm not going to get frostbite, Barton," she says back. His hands are staying fairly neutral in this, not landing anywhere terribly exciting other than it's just contact, "not going to get frostbite from being stupidly brave."

"Why'd you volunteer for this anyways. You were asked, they can't order you, you don't really work for SHIELD, aren't you funded by a grant?" That's...a surprise, that Clint knows that about her working situation. That she's only on while she finishes school via a NSA grant that Jane got before they moved to New York. Everyone just assumes she's paid someway through SHIELD since they begged Jane to come in.

"Prove that I can...," she says, liking the way his voice rumbles in his throat, and she suppresses a little shiver, because a good voice always does that to her, probably the actual thing that solidified her crush was how he talks. He can be wheedling and whining, be intense, and he's even known to giggle, but mostly it's a low gravel that travels straight to her cunt and doesn't let go. "be brave. Do something new. Show off?"

"Who do you want to show off too, Darcy?" Clint's hand trails to her hip, and it's getting steadily warmer underneath the blanket. His fingers land tentatively, waiting for a response, but Darcy can't seem to talk, get words out, because oh shit, maybe this is reciprocal, or maybe Clint just knows that this, this is an excellent way to get warm. There's a chuckle that starts in his chest, but it comes out as warmth when he continues, urges, "Did you want to show of for me Darce?"

She burrows in, ass first and he's hard, had to have been nearly so just before he started talking to her, "Yeah," she admits, "Did I do good, Clint?" Aw, fuck, who cares what this is. It's Clint, it's not like its going to be any less weird tomorrow morning.

Clint groans when she grinds against him again, and she's already lost to that sensation when he bites at her earlobe telling her that yeah, she did real good, and he's slipped his hand over her chest, cupping and kneading a breast through the bra. They are wearing practically nothing, and even her bra is practically nothing but it's entirely too much clothing.

"God, whatever you do," she smiles brightly as she turns Clint onto his back, stretching out the blanket on top of her as she straddles him, his hands resting on her thighs, although his right is creeping, inching by fingers inwards and towards the seams, "keep the damn blanket on. It's still cold." She arches her back just slightly, knows what a good view this is as she unhooks her bra, drops the straps and tosses it. She'll find it later. "Figured I'd even the ratio here."

He's now stroking her lightly through her panties, steady, just enough for her not to jump and giggle, but more than enough to start a heady glow in her cheeks. He's feeling her out, a cursory exploration and he pulls himself up through his core, and she can see each of the abdominals engage as he does. "This is not an even ratio at all, babe, not at all. These," he mouths one nipple, licking over the tip before continuing, "are so perfect that that I've got nothing that could possibly balance the scales."

"Oh I don't know," She touches his chest, runs through the hair there, over his shoulders and down his arms, "You have charms."

They look at each other for a brief moment, and both start cracking up and laughing. "Oh Darcy," he says through peals of laughter, "what are we doing?"

"I'm pretty sure you understand the concept of sex, hotshot." Darcy leans in and kisses his shoulder, and he hasn't stopped with his fingers and it's going to be more than a tease pretty soon, "Or has it been that long that you've forgotten what sex is. Let me remind you." She palms his dick through his boxers and he groans, "We touch each other and there's orgasms."

"I just know that the first time I fuck you? It's not going to be into a dirty mattress." Clint kisses her for the first time on the lips, his tongue slipping past her lips, and oh god, he's talking like there's going to be more times, and that's fantastic. "But I have no problem with orgasms, particularly yours."

His pushes aside the thin piece of fabric, and keeps up the same pace, the same strokes and pets, and it's going to drive her crazy if he doesn't step it up anytime soon, and not in a fun way. A finger enters her, pressing gently, figuring out what she can take as he keeps kissing her and wrapping an arm around her back, holding her still and upright. She gasps out, "Fuck, Clint." into his mouth, feels an almost shy grin form on his face. "I really need to get my hands on you now, right fucking now."

"Go for it, babe." Clint lifts his hips, and she reluctantly shifts her position, both to get her panties off, because seriously, better access, and to shimmy his boxers off of his hips. His cock is hot in her hands, still probably the hottest thing in the fucking cold room, hot and smooth and so very hard.

"So I'm think just being hands-on tonight and we can discuss more later?" She says, and his thumb is right on her clit, direct pressure that would normally be too much this soon, but it feels so great, so absolutely great and she can already feel that neither of them are going to last long, both coming down from the run in the rain and shooting, and oh fuck, she was almost like killed or something.

Darcy could start freaking at that, but she focuses instead on the weight in her hands, how firm Clint's cock is, how good it'll feel in her cunt and in her mouth later. She kisses Clint hard, easing away her panic and rocks her hips, urging Clint to work his fingers faster between little whines. 

Clint tells her, breathing heavy and his eyes fluttering, exactly how he likes it, where to twist and how tight her grip should be. He's more vocal, more demanding, she thinks, than she ever has been. Darcy's more of a go with the flow sort and so she flows, and shudders.

It's a too-quick orgasm, catch it and it's gone, but those have a fleeting grace to them, too. Clint watches her though, as she comes and it sets him off, coming over her hand and on his stomach.

"Damn, girlie," he says, wiping himself off and rubbing his hand off with on the mattress. "you're going to be fun. I've warmed up a bit, now, but why don't you curl up right here," he points to his chest, "and we can keep being warm until extraction tomorrow. Bring that blanket down here, you're letting the cold air in."

"Big baby," Darcy laughs, curling in to his side, trying to keep the blanket over his feet and close to his neck, since it's too small to go over their heads, "I suppose I can help keep you warm all night."


End file.
